


Who Chaperones The Chaperones?

by ThoseFiveChicks



Category: Maggot Boy
Genre: Bodyguard AU, Bodyguard!Davey, But wasn't everyone in medieval times?, Established!Chavey, Fluff, Homophobia, Human AU, I probably really screwed up on historical crap but whatever, M/M, Medieval AU, Prince!Chainey, Snuggling, Title sucks, i guess, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseFiveChicks/pseuds/ThoseFiveChicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chainey is the crown prince of a land whose name is utterly unimportant. Davey is his bodyguard.<br/>Also they're courting.<br/>Someone really should have seen this one coming. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Chaperones The Chaperones?

The thing about Davey's job was that he was supposed to remain as unattached as possible.

What kind of asshole ruling was that? He was a _bodyguard_ , he was supposed to be willing to give up his life for his charge, and these people wanted him to remain _unattached?_ Screw _that_ noise. He could become attached to anyone he _fucking_ wanted to, and if it happened to be the person he was spending literally all of his time with then that's just how it was going to go down. Anyone who looked down on him for that could kiss his ass.

Yeah. Courting the prince was _totally_ his way of rebelling.

Not.

"Yo, Chainey!" Davey called, rapping on the oak door in the most annoying fashion he could manage. "Would your _royal highness_ get your ass to bed already? I'm tired, and I'm not allowed to leave till you do." He paused for a moment, listening at the sound of gently lapping water coming from the bath house. There'd been a decent amount of splashing earlier, but after he'd stood watch for a while it had quieted down. He was just now realizing that that might have been something of a tip-off that something had gone awry.

"Chainey? Prince Chainey? Hel- _lo?_ You okay in there?"

There was a _reason_ he'd been standing guard _outside_. The only time he wasn't required– or, okay, the only time he was absolutely _banned_ – from being in the same room as the prince was when he was bathing. Apparently _someone_ up at the guard post had heard something swirling around about the two of them, and the next thing he knew he had to try to guard Chainey from behind a locked door. So if his boyfriend wound up getting hurt because of that, _so help him God_. . .

" _Chainey!_ " He called again, raising his voice even more, and this time, to his relief, there was a reaction. A loud spluttering noise, a sudden, violent shift of water, and then a voice that was distinctly his prince's cursing under his breath.

"Sorry, Jeremiah," Chainey called, and there was a wince in his voice. "I. . . fell asleep again."

Ah. There it was. The reason the prince had been assigned a twenty-four hour a day bodyguard, rather than just relying on the small army that lived within the castle walls. Ever since the age of seven, Chainey had begun to have sudden, uncontrollable fits of sleep, times when he would pass out in the middle of an activity or conversation. The king and queen were distraught, of course, but when nobody in the kingdom or even a decent trek outside the borders knew what to do about it, it was just sort of generally put down to witchcraft and a practical solution had to be thought up. Namely, Jeremiah David Jones, princely bodyguard and official monitor for making sure the crown prince didn't accidentally drown himself in a bowl of soup.

Davey rolled his eyes, dropping his hand back to his side. Well. Nice to know he'd been worried over nothing. "There's nobody around, Chainey. Drop the formality, will you? You know I hate being called that." If anyone ever found out how he talked to Chainey when they were alone. . . shiesh. He had to act all stuffy and reserved in public, all 'my lord' this and 'your highness' that, but when you'd spent the last eleven years growing up with someone you tended to not really give a damn if he was the future ruler of the kingdom. You just treated him like what he was, which was your best friend and also your suitor.

Oh, the _scandal_.

Chainey appeared a moment later, sheepish and still a bit damp, through the door, opening it carefully so he didn't slam it right into Davey's nose. "Sorry, Davey. I guess I spent too much time around those diplomats today. I had to keep calling you 'Sir Jeremiah' or just 'Jones'."

Davey grunted, folding his hands loosely over where his sword hung at his belt and taking a step back so Chainey could slip into the corridor. "Tell me about it. I keep getting nasty looks for not using your full title when you come up in conversation. I mean, how the hell are you supposed to actually _say_ anything when half the sentence is taken up by 'his royal highness, crown prince Chainey,' huh?"

Chainey just shrugged, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked more comfortable in his nightclothes than he ever did in his robes, tight, heavy garments covered in embroidery so thick the fabric scarcely bent. These, loose-fitting black pants and a soft blue shirt, were things he could really relax into, the first image that popped into Davey's head when he pictured his prince.

Chainey yawned then, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and Davey bit back a smile.

"C'mon. Let's go to bed."

"Mmm," Chainey replied, lowering his arm, and as they started down the hallway Davey reached over, catching at Chainey's fingers and hooking their pinkies together.

It was a good thing almost everyone was asleep right now, because otherwise this would be _very_ telling about his relationship with the prince. The last thing Davey wanted was to be moved out of his room.

"We wouldn't have to watch each other's names if we just told everyone the truth, you know," Chainey said, tilting his head to look down at Davey. They'd been closer in height when they were younger, but when the teenage years had hit Chainey had sprouted upwards so fast Davey almost didn't recognize him.

" _Pft_. Yeah, that'd work, it's not like courting a _man_ is a reason to get executed or anything." Davey rolled his eyes. Chainey would be fine, he knew that much, what with being royalty and everything. Davey wasn't so lucky, though.

Chainey didn't laugh, just tugged lightly against Davey's fingers. "I'm _serious_. You know, I could probably do something about that. I _am_ the prince, you know. Changing laws is kind of what royalty does."

"Do you seriously think the people would stand for it? You may be prince, but this is the kind of thing _rebellions_ are started over. You wanna get thrown out of your highchair?"

Chainey blushed, looking away, but there was a petulance in his voice when he next spoke. "The Wright's kingdom managed it."

At that, Davey almost stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Was Chainey seriously pulling those guys into it? "Chainey, that whole line is _dysfunctional_. The only reason nobody's tried to overthrow them yet is that they're all too scared. You've _met_ prince douchebag, remember? He tried to _kill_ you." Owen Nathaniel Wright, heir to the throne and raging psycho. He had some serious grudge against Chainey and had tried to stab him a little over a year ago The only reason he hadn't succeeded was because Davey had been there. The kingdom was fully expecting to go to war the second he took the throne.

Chainey set his jaw. "He's _also_ openly courting your brother."

Davey growled under his breath. " _Don't remind me_." That was something he did _not_ like to think about. Parker would probably be dead by now if everyone wasn't too scared of what Owen would do to them once he found out. "Anyway, you seriously wanna base our relationship after _that_ guy?" Owen's idea of romance involved having any and all other suitors publicly executed. Amazingly traumatizing.

"No, but. . ." Chainey said, trailing off, and after a few moments of silence they'd arrived at his bedchambers.

It wasn't anything outrageously scandalous, to be honest– they _did_ sleep in separate beds, and not just when they thought someone might wander in but _all_ of the time. Their relationship wasn't drawn curtains and tangled bedsheets, it was holding hands and telling stupid jokes and laughing and just sort of _being_ there. But Davey did wonder if sometimes it wouldn't be okay to just sneak in there, just for a bit, and fall asleep in Chainey's arms for once. It didn't seem fair that every other couple could do that and they couldn't.

He was still thinking about that as he closed the door behind them, glancing over his shoulder as Chainey crawled into bed, and when he turned to go to his own– a significantly less extravagant one on the side closest to the door, in case of any surprise attacks– he was surprised when Chainey caught at his wrist as he went by.

"What–" he started to say, but a moment later Chainey was tugging him down under the covers. For a second, Davey couldn't say anything else– Chainey was wrapping his arms around him, snuggling him deep into the pillow, and that pretty much shut down all higher thought the second it started. But then the mental image of a maid coming in to awaken them the next morning stirred in the back of his mind, and he started to try to untangle himself. "Chainey, we can't–"

"What would you do if we could tell people about us? What's the first thing you would do?" Chainey asked, resting his chin on Davey's shoulder to keep him from getting up. He was on his side, curled halfway around Davey, and the high window behind him let in just enough moonlight to sent shots of silvery-blue through his hair, to send a spray of pale light over his cheek and lips. He was warm, and Davey was tired, and if his prince didn't want him to go to his own cot then he would _follow_ that order, danger be damned.

It was just for tonight, after all. Just one night of pretending. No, one night of _not_ pretending. One night of being real.

"Hmm. . ." Davey said, thinking carefully. "I would. . . take you out in front of the whole court, in front of all those girls in their stupid dresses who just want to be the next queen. . . and I'd give you the biggest kiss of your life. Right there. In front of everybody."

Chainey laughed, a quick breath against Davey's tunic, and Davey found himself grinning. "That would certainly raise some eyebrows," Chainey mumbled.

"The ones that aren't painted on, yeah." What was it with girls who thought they were only pretty when they looked like they weren't even themselves? “Now. What about you?”

“What would _I_ do?”

“Mm,” Davey said, reaching up to thread his fingers through Chainey’s hair. He shifted slightly, sliding a little bit downwards so that when he turned his head, their eyes were level.

“I’d take you down to the fair, and we’d get sweets and cakes and stuff like that, and then we could go have a picnic on a grassy hill somewhere and watch the festivities instead of me having to sit in that stuffy royal box and you having to stand the whole time.”

“You’ve got this all planned out, huh?” Davey asked, leaning forwards to nuzzle his nose against his boyfriend’s. Chainey laughed, reached up to fend him off, but Davey was faster and caught at his wrist, tugging him even closer. “Well, _I_ would. . . marry you.”

Chainey raised his eyebrows, trying not to giggle. “You’d _marry_ me? Really? Just like that?”

“Just like what? We’ve been courting for _how_ many years now? Four? Five? Besides, people are _already_ wondering why you haven’t chosen a bride.” It wasn’t like the girls themselves hadn’t been practically throwing themselves at him– or _literally_ , as the case was for a blonde girl called Rebecca. Davey had once again intercepted, calling her a ‘threat to the safety of the prince.’

Threat to the safety of his relationship, more like.

“Yeah, well, I can still one-up you, you dork,” Chainey said, and now it was Davey’s turn to raise his eyebrows. If it was a competition Chainey was after, Davey was pretty sure you couldn’t get any sappier than a marriage proposal.

“Yeah? How’s that?”

Chainey deftly freed his hand, catching at Davey’s cheek and pulling him into a kiss that the bodyguard felt in his toes. Chainey pulled back slowly, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes.

“I’d say yes.”


End file.
